Keep Me Safe
by Purecinnamonbun
Summary: Simon accidentally discovers that Baz watches him when he sleeps. At first, he just wanted to figure out why. Is he plotting? Planning to drain his blood in his sleep? But when none of that happens, Simon has to confront the real reason. But not without finding the truth of his own feelings first.
1. Chapter 1

Baz watches me when I sleep.

It wasn't too long ago that I realised it, and honestly, my discovery was mostly an accident. It was only a few weeks after we'd returned to Watford from the holidays, and the weather had taken a swift decline, leaving me shivering underneath my duvet most nights, despite the fact that I run much hotter than normal people. I even stopped complaining when Baz resolutely shut the window every evening before bed.

So it was hardly a surprise when I woke up one night, feet freezing (I'd somehow managed to kick the blanket off them in my sleep) and face numb. But for once in my life, I didn't immediately begin my ritual of tossing about in bed in order to get back to sleep. It was nice, laying in the dark, so I just stayed like that for a while. Somehow, I felt safe for once in my life. Quiet. I hadn't had much of either of those things since I learnt that the Humdrum could just pull me from wherever I was at any minute. After the events of last year, the Mage packed me off to another children's home with barely a dismissive wave in my direction. I spent the entire summer hunched alone in a bunk bed, below the cultivating mould of the damp ceiling, afraid that I'd be snatched away at any moment.

Coming back to Watford brought with it a sense of calm that I hadn't realised I'd lost, and yet an influx of noise and anxiety at the same time.

So being able to wake up, and stare at the ceiling without moving a muscle, was nice. Because as the Mage's Heir, you don't get to relax much. It makes sense that Agatha would dump me, really, and I don't know why I didn't see it coming. I guess I was pretending that I was somehow strong enough to handle all the aspects of my golden, yet blood-stained destiny; now at least, it was clear that she wouldn't be a part of it.

I wasn't sure if I cared about that because I loved her, or if it just felt like I was failing as a hero.

It was around then, in the middle of my musings, that I noticed, hackles slightly raising.

I was being watched.

For some reason, I didn't feel afraid. It wasn't like when I was being hunted down by goblins, or werewolves− it felt softer. Kinder.

I kept my body still and breathing even as I slowly peeked from the corner of my eye.

Baz's figure was outlined against the soft glow of the moonlight; head propped on an arm, and tilted towards me. Watching.

_He's plotting._

My first thought was, understandably, quite predictable. But what other reason could you have for watching your arch nemesis at night?

Waiting for an opening, that's what he had to be doing. He was a vampire after all, and maybe he'd been running low on the blood of the innocent lately.

But would Baz do that? For all I bring up him being a vampire at every opportunity, it's more of a PSA if anything. Just a warning to maybe be a bit more careful with the contents of your arteries and veins.

He was a bastard; I wasn't denying that at all. But there had been a definitive lack of first years turning up dead in the moat which you would assume would accompany a vampire who stalked the night.

The phrase _stalking the night _also seemed odd in association to Baz. He seemed the type to make himself noticed; instead of creeping through the woods, he'd ride through on a white horse with a fucking fanfare in the background, his perfect hair slicked neatly back.

I needed to stop thinking about Baz's hair.

The best thing to do for now, I decided, was to watch the situation. To see what happens tomorrow.

But for now…

I made a sort of sniffling noise, and made a show of stretching out, like I was waking up, before turning over a few times in bed, and settling underneath the blanket once more.

When I snuck a look at Baz, mere seconds after I'd stilled again, he was facing away, as if he'd been asleep the whole time.

hr

The next night passed. And the next, and the next, and the next.

Every night, Baz would leave the room early in the evening, and come back late, once he was sure I was asleep. Then he'd roll into bed, and face me for a while, before he fell asleep himself.

It wasn't exactly a familiar position for me, so the third night, to pass the time while I stared up at the ceiling, and Baz stared at me, I started making a list.

**Reasons that Baz is Watching Me Sleep (Edward Cullen-esque):**

He wants to drain me of my blood, and parade my dead carcass as a symbol

His Aunt Fiona dared him to do it, and its actually a big prank they're both pulling to unnerve me before our big fight

It's a cult thing

He's plotting (although it was a fairly solid answer, it didn't really give me any idea of _what _he was plotting, so I crossed it off my mental list)

He's trying to think of how he can steal Agatha

It's a cult thing (by then, I was beginning to drop off for real, and couldn't remember what I had and hadn't thought of already)

The list was wildly unhelpful, and a week later, I still had no idea what he was playing at. Penny had started to comment on the fact that I had bags under my eyes, and started to try and force me to nap every lunchtime.

But the fact that it had been a week in itself was oddly telling. Whatever it was that Baz was trying to do, it required time.

There was something else, something I was having difficulty admitting to even myself.

I _liked _having him focused on me at night.

Not, like, in a weird way. But whenever Baz and I are within a hundred yards of one another, we're fighting. Every word is laced with barbs and hate, and I just get so _tired _of it sometimes. So feeling relaxed in his presence… is nice.

There's also the fact that when Baz is watching me, I know exactly where he is. I know that he isn't running off to the Catacombs or the woods or wherever else, where he could get lost, or hurt, or… or…

And it works in the opposite way, too. Ever since the Humdrum took me and Penny last year, there's always been a simmering fear that it will happen again. That one night, I'll disappear in my bed, and the next morning Baz will neither notice nor give a shit.

It makes me feel like he cares. Like he's watching over me. Late at night, when Baz and I are both silent, and he doesn't even know I'm _awake, _I feel like I'm with the real Baz. I feel safe.

_Merlin, and Morgana._

Then everything changed again.

On the seventh night since I'd first realised what was happening, the Mage called me to a top-secret meeting in his quarters (it was mainly him talking about how the Old Families were reacting to the tax reforms, while I stood there, holding my sword, and pretending to know what he was on about.), and by the time I reached the top of our turret in Mummers House after the meeting, it was past three in the morning.

I shouldn't have found it as surprising as it was that Baz was curled up in bed, eyes closed, hair loose around his face, and breathing softly.

It was surprisingly endearing to see him like that.

I changed for bed quietly, not even bothering with a shower as I clambered into bed myself; Baz looked peaceful for once in his life, and I didn't want to wake him.

But the moment I closed my eyes to attempt sleep myself, a soft whimper comes from the other side of the room, and I sit up in thinly veiled concern.

Baz sniffles, and chokes out a sob.

And another.

And another.

The moment he moved out of his tight ball, and began to thrash around erratically, I was on his side of the room.

"_Baz!" _I hissed "_Baz! _Wake up!"

My words didn't help; he continued to shake, and sob.

After a few moments of back and forth, I found myself perching on the end of his bed, and reaching out for his arm gently,

"It's okay, Baz. I promise, everything's okay now"

After a few minutes, he begins to quieten a little, and his limbs go still. I gingerly touch his hair, and pat it for another moment or so, until I was sure his nightmare had completely left him.

Then I walked over to my own bed, settled against the pillows, and drew my legs up to my chin.

Baz was always watching over me. It was my turn to do the same for him.

At that very thought, everything clicked into place, and my world turned to ice.

_Crowley. I've fallen in too deep._


	2. Chapter 2

Time passed quickly, routine quickly settling into place. Most nights, Baz would be awake when I thundered back into the room, usually poised with a book in dim lighting, and looking at me like I'm the lowest scourge of the earth. We'd trade insults back and forth for a while, before I would lay down and pretended to sleep. Without fail, half an hour or so later, I'd feel Baz's eyes lock onto the back of my neck. I didn't always stay awake to witness it, though. After getting comfortable with the fact that Baz was watching me, I could sleep better than ever. He was my safety net. Somebody I could hold onto, so I knew that I wasn't dead yet. That I still had time before I had to save the world.

A fucking demented thing to think, really, when you take in all of Baz's winning qualities (Evil, vampire, out for my blood, probably doing that snake thing of sizing me up to eat me), but somehow true. It was unsettling how quickly I got used to it.

But my favourite nights would always be when I got back to Mummer's House late for some reason or another, and I'd find Baz cocooned in his blankets, a peaceful expression on his face. That would always be when I implemented my '_It's not weird because he did it first' _policy, and keep an eye on Baz as we both navigated the suffocating haze of night. He hadn't had a nightmare since that first time, but that didn't mean I wasn't watching out for one. Ready to calm him down if he needed it.

And it was nice. Being with him without the fighting and insults and threats was, well, nice.

The problems always came when the sun came up.

I knew that things for Baz hadn't changed like they had for me. I still had no idea why the hell he was watching me, but even if it _was _for some sentimental reason, he didn't let it show in the morning.

He'd always greet me with an jibe at the ready. I'd throw my pillow at him with a muffled "Shut the fuck up."

Because that was what we did. Even if there was some other part to our relationship, which both of us were trying to hide from the other, in the end, we were enemies. Destined to kill, destined to die. Legends can't change without a conversation.

So I tried to have one.

One month after the routine had started, and Baz woke me up with a smirk and a "Better get yourself to breakfast before some sorry bastard steals one of your prized scones, Snow" as he finished a perfect knot on his tie.

I didn't reply for a moment. I just looked at him.

He quirked a brow (one of Baz's trademarks) "Struggling for a response?"

It was now or never. I coughed uncomfortably, trying to get my voice to a reasonable, non-cracking level.

"Baz," I tried, but stopped after the first word, leaving an awkward pause. He looked at me, and I could tell he was expecting me to trip over a string of insults. I wasn't. "Baz, I don't want to fight you anymore."

And that was it.

It wasn't exactly what I wanted to say, but I've never been good at finding words. Not when it really matters.

Baz's mask cracked for barely a moment, allowing me to see some sort of vulnerable surprise, before it slotted back into place. He laughed, turning, so he wasn't fully looking at me as he said "You can do whatever you want. Make it easier for me to kill you, or fight back for all I care. Just don't forget, Snow," He faced me again, making careful eye contact, as he enunciated each syllable "_This will end in flames_. You can't stop that by throwing down your sword and announcing your surrender."

Then he left the room abruptly, leaving me alone, miserable, and wondering what the fuck I'd exactly expected to happen. Baz's eyes to fill with tears as he told me that he doesn't want to fight either? To ride off into the sunset together on a fucking white horse as the movie credits roll?

Nothing really made sense to me anyway. For the first time since the whole charade started, I wished that I'd never woken up to find Baz watching me. Then I wouldn't have tried to make our easy antagonism anything more than it really was.

hr

The Wavering Wood was a good place to think. The forest nymphs left me alone as soon as I told them I was upset over something, with a slew of parting head pats and reassuring words, so the place was silent.  
Another one of the perks is that it's almost always got a good chance of being Baz free, meaning I could hack at the trees and shrubs as much as I wanted without him appearing in some dark corner and taking the mick.

I looked at the Sword of Mages in my hand, handle slick with the sweat from my palms, and dropped it on the earthy floor, sinking down into the dirt after it. The sun had almost completely sunk underneath the horizon without me noticing, leaving me in the faint glow of the moon. I probably looked a right sight, there in the woods. Typically, a guy leaning against a tree in the moonlight would be considered attractive, but I knew that I, caked in dirt and moss, just came across as a bloke who'd tried to fight a tree. And lost badly.

I was avoiding going back to the room. I shouldn't have been; not like Baz and I had ended up having a massive fight, after all. But the rejection, however small and seemingly insignificant, stung. Because it showed that, in Baz's mind, there were two clear sides. Him and me. Opposing ends of the spectrum.

Why did it have to be that way?

It really was getting late to be out in the woods. The drawbridge might have even been lowered already. With a resigned sigh, and a hardened heart, I walked back to our room, where I didn't even look towards Baz's bed. I just headed straight for the shower, where I spent what must have been an hour or so scrubbing off dirt and grime, and pulling twigs out of my hair. That's another good thing about spending time in the woods. The feeling of it all coming off you afterwards.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, however, I couldn't resist sneaking a look at Baz's bed. The room was dark, with all lights off, and he was a barely distinguishable lump underneath his covers.

I opened the window, just to spite him, before climbing into bed and facing the wall, giving myself over to sleep immediately.

hr

I woke up slowly, passing through various layers of sleep saturated delusions before I was finally fully aware.

It didn't take me long to realise why.

Baz was having a nightmare. The sound of muffled sobs, and chattering teeth emanated from the other side of the room.

I stayed frozen in my bed, half wrapped in my covers, unsure of what to do. My first instinct was, obviously, to run over to Baz's bed, like I first did a month ago. But now…

I wasn't sure what to do. As a sort of peace offering, I get up, and close the window, with a furtive glance at Baz, before getting back into bed. He doesn't stop crying, even in the minutes I'm staring up at the ceiling underneath my sheets

. The best thing would be to

"_Help me!" _Baz choked out in his sleep, and the covers tangled around my legs in my haste to get off my bed, and to his side. I had to waste valuable seconds kicking them away before I could finally get over there.

"It's okay," I told him, softly, hesitantly touching his cheek "You're safe. You're okay. I'm here."

He quietened, and I began to step away from his bed, raking my fingers through my short curls, when I felt a hand shoot out and grab my sleeve.

"_Simon_" Baz murmured, and for a second, I was afraid that he'd woken up. But his eyes were still closed, and he didn't show any other signs of being conscious "N'go. Stay."

It was time to take a gamble.

I lifted the covers of his bed slowly (he had them neatly tucked in, the posh bastard), and manoeuvre myself in an attempt to climb in bed next to him, finally wrapping my arms around his waist.

Not a very smart move, looking back, since the movement chased away any semblance of sleep he was in. His eyes fluttered open, and we held silent, very awkward eye contact for what seemed like eons.

"Evening, Baz." I said stupidly, because I wasn't sure what else to do in that situation.

"Please explain to me what the _fuck _you're doing in my bed at this godforsaken time?"

He was swearing like a Normal. Baz would never be caught _dead _doing that, which means that this time, I _really _pissed him off.

"Right. That. Well." I shifted slightly, clearing my throat, and bracing for a possible hit "You were having a nightmare, and you sounded _really _upset, so I thought that I−"

"Would get into my bed?"

"Well, no. In all the other times I've watched you; you've barely ever had a nightmare. So I thought I'd try to, you know, calm you down a bit. Then you asked me to stay."  
I shrugged. It seemed like the right situation for a shrug.

"What do you mean _all the other times you've watched me?"_

Merlin and Morgana, _fuck._

"I…_shit, _I, um, about a month ago, ish, I woke up in the middle of the night. And I saw you…watching me." Baz jerked in my arms, as if he was trying to run from the situation. I held him tight, embarrassed myself, but knowing that it would only be more awkward if we didn't talk it out now "I never really figured out, you know, why you were doing it, but after a while, I got used to it. Liked it. So I started watching out for you, when you're asleep. Because. Nightmares. Yeah." I petered off towards the end of the speech, feeling about as uncomfortable as I'd ever been.

There's a pause, where nobody speaks at all, until Baz's dry voice cuts through the still air "So your solution to having your self-proclaimed vampire enemy watch you at night was to _watch him back?"_

It sounded stupid if you put it that way.

"…Yeah." I shrugged.

Then Baz does the least Baz thing I've ever seen him do.

The bastard starts laughing. He clutched the pillow beside me, his body shaking as he giggled, hand covering his mouth.  
But then he suddenly sobered, looking me in the face for the first time. There was a trace of sadness in his eyes, as if he was gearing himself up for something huge, that he knew would fail.

"Simon, the reason I watched you… the reason I _always _watch you…it's because I'm in love with you. Have been for a long time."

"Oh." Words always manage to desert me at the very moment I need them the most. But all I knew then was that Baz was beginning to pull away, and I couldn't have him away from me any longer.

That's why I crushed our lips together.

People always describe kisses as being explosive. Fireworks. Now I understood why Baz had said this would all end in flames. The world was burning around me, but I'd never felt more alive.

When Baz finally pulled away, I'm pleased to see that his self-assured smirk is nowhere to be found. I cut in before he can speak, settling us both down against the pillows "I've been watching you sleep for a month, you absolute wanker. At this point, I think I've sacrificed enough sleep for you to accept that I love you too."

As the night drew on, the kisses became sweeter and slower, and the flame fell to an ember.

"What about the war?" Baz had asked with a rough voice in the middle of the night, as I leaned into his chest.

"The war can go fuck itself."

"I don't think that's a legitimate answer, Snow."

"You called me Simon before."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Simon?"

"Baz?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."


End file.
